White Horse
by Muffinzelda
Summary: After leaving the White Horse pub in Ramblin' Boy, Robbie and Laura have no more secrets from each other. Robbie learns of Laura's first marriage… to a certain spin doctor from another series. This is essentially a Robson romance and not a proper cross-over, but knowledge of the Thick of It would enhance the reading.
1. Immediately Following Ramblin' Boy

Disclaimer: This story is for fan purposes only. All the characters are property of their respective owners (not me!) and are used here without permission.

Acknowledgements: This story has been percolating for a long time and came from a convoluted mess of inspiration. I should start by thanking the people on Tumblr who have pointed out that Clare Holman and Peter Capaldi have played the role of married couple on more than one occasion, and that there was clarinet music in Malcolm Tucker's home that could possibly belong to Laura Hobson. So a Hobson-Tucker union is not my original idea, but I find it incredibly plausible for their younger days. I always thought that would be a fun story to write, but I realized that I lack the creativity and… umm, vocabulary… to write dialogue for Malcolm Tucker. In celebration of Peter Capaldi becoming the 12th Doctor Who, I decided it was time to just give it my best. That meant writing about Malcolm in the third person, so I offer my apologies in advance to any readers who are hoping he'll put in an appearance. Also, the Taylor Swift song White Horse is partially to blame for this story. See what I mean? A convoluted mess of inspiration…

* * *

Once upon a time, little Laura Hobson believed that her Prince Charming would ride up on a white horse and carry her off to his far away kingdom. But she often reminded herself that was in the distant past, just like Robbie Lewis' proclivity for having fun- as she had recently teased him at a sidewalk café. Yet despite many years of disillusionment, she hadn't been completely wrong. The White Horse in question was not an equine at all but rather a pub, and instead of being carried away, she was walking side by side with a man as enamored of her as she was of him, in perfect step.

Robbie Lewis and Laura Hobson maintained a hurried pace, both excited to resume what they had begun with a passionate kiss in the pub. They didn't speak, but they were both of one mind as to where they were going. They didn't let go of one another until he needed both hands to unlock the front door to his building.

Robbie was already pawing at his own tie as they entered the foyer and approached the door to his flat.

"I've never actually been inside your flat before."

"It's not much; I hope you won't be disappointed. Maybe I should ask you to close your eyes."

She laughed as she shut her eyelids and held her hands out in front of her. "Lead the way."

He opened the door, pulled her across the threshold and into his arms. He kicked the door closed as his lips found hers once more.

When they at last broke apart, they smiled lovingly at one another.

"Where are me manners? Do you want another beer, or should we switch to wine?"

"Wine would be lovely."

"Why don't you pick a bottle while I go freshen up."

"You have an impressive selection here, Robbie!"

"Erm, I keep receiving them as gifts over the years, but I don't get the opportunity to open a bottle very often. No one to share it with, I suppose."

"I shall be happy to help you in that endeavour," she said as she found glasses and he slipped off to the loo.

When he returned, they both had shed their jackets and Laura was seated on the couch with two glasses of wine poured. He joined her there, and after a few tentative sips of wine the glasses were posed back on the coffee table and they were closely snuggled together. A masculine fragrance mixed with the merlot in the air between them. "Did you just put on cologne?" She asked.

"No, just wanted to add a fresh coat of deodorant, pet."

"Charming!" she laughed, so happy to be experiencing Robbie Lewis with all her senses. As their hands and lips curiously explored one another, Laura found herself willingly gravitating towards a supine posture. However, Robbie's couch was only a love seat, so they both wrestled awkwardly, unsure of how to accommodate their legs in a small space. He was pressing her back into the arm of the couch, with more and more pressure as he anchored more of himself on to her.

"Oof!" She let out as he shifted his legs again, putting his weight on her trying to maintain his balance on the love seat.

Robbie sat up and saw her neck bent against the arm of the couch. "Sorry, love. Little out of practice." He helped her up and began rubbing her neck instead.

"That's all right, Robbie, but maybe it's time for some new throw pillows. Nice big cushiony ones."

"Throw pillows, good idea." He reckoned that maybe he should buy some new towels too. They both took a sip of wine.

"You know, Robbie, it was less than a week ago that I teased you about your misplaced sense of wild abandon. It seems I was wrong."

"Heh heh, I'm just excited, is all. But we've no need to rush, do we now, love?"

"We have all the time in the world, Robbie."

She put down her glass and reclined on the love seat with her legs tented across his lap as he sat upright. He said somewhat out of the blue, "tell me everything, Laura."

"What do you mean?"

"I've known you for years, but not the way you know me: Tyneside, the kids, and all. I've been told I wear me heart on me sleeve. In some ways, though, I hardly know you. Maybe it's me own fault because I wasn't paying enough attention, but you've always been a bit guarded too, no?" She conceded a nod. "Where were you born, Laura?"

"Not too far away- Coventry." She stopped there despite his expectant gaze.

"Is that all? Come on, Laura, you can do better than that."

"Isn't this how you interrogate suspects, Inspector?"

"No, sometimes I make Hathaway break out the thumb screws. But that won't be necessary; I have ways of making you talk." He took her left foot into his hand and removed her sock. He began to massage her foot.

"Mmm, you're very effective, Robbie. I lived with my parents and my younger brother. When I was young, I wanted to be a gymnast. I was very disciplined, obsessed with nutrition and kinesthetics. I think that's where my love of anatomy came from, but it's kind of ironic that after spending so many years training to be flexible that I would spend the rest of my life with a bunch of stiff corpses. I was quite good; I placed in several competitions both individually and as part of a team. But I wasn't good enough to compete internationally or make a career of it, so I focused on my studies. I eventually had to give up gymnastics to go to uni. That's where I gave in to a few vices: drinking, smoking, and you know…" (Robbie raised his eyebrows) "…binging on garlic bread." She smirked to let him know how much she was enjoying teasing him. "Cigarettes these days are rare of course, but I still like to have a stiff drink now and then- as you well know. After med school, I went to London and worked in a pathology lab. Made some contacts in the Met, and ended up in forensics."

"But you wanted to come back to Oxford?"

She nodded and gave him a half smile, but he knew she was holding something back. He put down her left foot. He didn't have to say anything; the question was in his eyes.

"Everything, Robbie?" He nodded and picked up her right foot this time to resume his ministrations. "All right, then. I was married- albeit briefly. He had political ambitions and a vile tongue. Needless to say, it didn't work out. I left and came back to Oxford." Robbie was stunned, but his face didn't move. "What, stop giving me that look, Robbie."

"What look?"

"The look where you're doing absolutely nothing with your face!" Now Robbie was laughing at her exasperated facial expression. "You know, for a man who claims to wear his heart on his sleeve, you are incredibly talented at hiding what you're really thinking."

"Just a little surprised is all."

"What do you mean, surprised?"

"I had no idea."

"Oh come off it, Robbie. Don't pretend you haven't done a background check on me."

"I haven't."

"Not even after what happened with Ligeia? You must have."

"No, I swear it. I asked for your alibi but that was the extent of it. I'll admit that I was led astray by some of the evidence in that case—but we were researching Mary Gwilliam's connection to adoptions at the maternity hospital, not you specifically. Whatever questions I had, I asked you to your face. Please believe me." Suddenly Robbie was on the defensive; he had just solidified his relationship with Laura and was terrified he might lose her just as quickly.

"OK, OK, Robbie, don't get upset." _Maybe Robbie trusted me after all…_ she thought. "Where were we?" She asked in her sultry voice, hoping he would kiss her again to make her forget all about that shallow grave in Holmwood Park… but the detective had a different lead to follow up on.

"You were married to a bloke who… lacked my Northern charm?"

_Actually, he was Scottish, so he may have you beat in latitude, though certainly not in terms of charm…_ she thought, but she didn't say it because the less said about Malcolm Tucker the better.

"You really don't know, do you?"

"Not a clue, love."

"Hmph. Morse knew. He admitted to me over pints one night that he'd looked into my credentials and background." DCI Martin Johnson had known too; he'd tried to use Laura for personal gain, wondering if the well-connected 'Malc' owed her any favours. She'd broken up with Johnson immediately thereafter.

"Morse." Robbie shook his head. "That sounds like him all right, but he didn't share half of what he knew about anything, and certainly not about his lady friends." Laura raised an eyebrow. "Not that you were… I didn't mean that you and he… You're too young for me, let alone Morse. Bollocks, I'm cocking this up again, aren't I?"

"No, Robbie! You're wonderful- a clean slate!" _I'm a line item entry on Malcolm's Wikipedia page; that's how easy it would be to know the truth, but Robbie hasn't even Googled my name! _ She thought, then immediately realised how foolish that sounded even in her head. Of course Robbie wouldn't have spent his loneliest hours Googling her like a silly school girl… like she herself had Googled him to read of his exploits occasionally mentioned in the Oxford Mail.

She continued. "Can we simplify things a bit? I'm happy to answer any specific questions you have, but in broad terms, the omnishambles that I called a marriage isn't worth revisiting anyway." She paused, giving him the opening to ask.

He hesitated before asking, "Did he ever hurt you?"

"Never. Not physically, anyway. Master of the tongue lashing he was, though. But you know me, I give as good as I get." _Malcolm was my ideal sparring partner, not my ideal husband…_

"Good. That's all I need to know, then." Robbie had consciously entered into this relationship with Laura assuming that she would have a more varied amorous experience than his own, and he had already decided that he wasn't going to press her for any of the details. He was looking for a new start and extended the same to Laura.

Laura made an overture of her own. "I know that it was different for you, marriage. Now that we're… more than friends…" (Robbie grinned.) "… you can still talk about Val anytime you need to. The past doesn't bother me."

He nodded in thanks.

"We have each other now," she said as she sat up and refilled their wine glasses. The two clung to each other the rest of the night, the ardent kisses of earlier having given way to tender caresses that went a long way towards healing them both.

* * *

"I love you, bonny lass," Robbie whispered into her hair at some point in the night. Laura was not sure if he was awake or asleep and was a bit afraid he'd mistaken her for Val.

"A few hours ago, you admitted that you hardly knew me." Laura said, quietly muffled into a bed pillow.

The same sleepy voice answered her in a heartbeat. "Nice girl, gymnast from Coventry." He gave her a little extra squeeze, tightening their flesh-to-flesh sleeping arrangement. Laura was relieved; she never should have doubted him and never would again.

"I love you too, my proper copper from Newcastle."


	2. Several Years Later

Chapter 2- Several years in the future

Robbie and Laura built their life together from that point forward, never looking back.

And then came the day that Fleet Street came knocking at the door of the home they shared. The retired detective opened the door to a woman looking for Dr Hobson. She reminded Robbie of someone he'd once interviewed years ago at Lady Mathilda's College. That alone sent his intuition into a lather. "And you are?" Robbie inquired.

"Marianne Swift of the Guardian."

"Dr Hobson doesn't comment on any of her cases to the press."

"What about political figures?"

"She's apolitical. Has some strong views about the NHS, mind you, but she wouldn't share those with you."

"Look, I'm not just any journalist. I wrote a biography of Malcolm Tucker several years back, when he went to prison for perjury and corruption."

"Ah," said Robbie. Suddenly it all made sense to Robbie. _Political ambitions and a vile tongue… _the notorious political puppet-master Malcolm Tucker was the mysterious man from Laura's past.

"Malcolm has just been released from prison and has been offered an inflammatory pundit's programme with ITV. They're striking while the iron is hot."

"And this concerns Dr Hobson how?"

"I was wondering if she would share how she feels about it."

Robbie shrugged. "Everyone deserves a second chance. But those are my words. Dr Hobson herself would issue a strict 'no comment.' If that's all?" He didn't wait for Marianne Swift to answer, instead slamming the door in her face. (As a former detective, he had been on the receiving end of many such slams and rather enjoyed dishing one out for once.)

Robbie took out his mobile to call Laura, but she didn't answer. "Laura, something important has come up and I'm coming to the mortuary to talk." He peered out the window. Swift's car was still parked furtively down the street, but certainly within viewing distance of their home. He didn't want Laura coming home to an ambush, so he figured he might as well lead the journalist to the police station.

Laura was in the middle of a post-mortem when Robbie rapped his knuckles on the door and entered. She was addressing one of Robbie's former colleagues, DI Grainger. "Look, I know what you want me to help you prove, but there is no chemical biomarker for that kind of psychotic break!"

"Forgive the intrusion, doctor." How Robbie enjoyed reprising his 'Inspector Lewis' voice! "When you're done, I need to speak with you in your office. Take your time, though. It's important, but not urgent."

A look of worry crossed Laura's face. "Is everything all right? Lyn and the kids?"

"Everyone's fine. Just come to your office as soon as you're done here." He nodded to Grainger, "Good to see you, mate."

Laura entered her office in a right state. "What's going on, Robbie?"

"Malcolm Tucker is getting out of prison." He said calmly to mitigate her shock at hearing Malcolm's name from Robbie's lips. "A journalist from the Guardian came to the house." Laura's face contorted into an anguished expression. "It's all right, love," he reassured her.

"Malcolm is harmless. I'm more worried about that Marianne Swift. That's who it was, wasn't it?"

Robbie nodded, and Laura continued. "She may work for the Guardian, but her independent work is nothing more than tabloid trash. She was writing a tell-all biography on Malcolm following his arrest in 2012. Harassed me for weeks trying to get an interview."

Laura went to her filing cabinet and dug around the back, trying to find something long since buried. She extracted a glossy hardcover book from the cabinet. "Ellen sent me a copy." She handed it to Robbie; it was a copy of Marianne Swift's tell-all.

"Thoughtful friend, our Ellen."

"I asked her to do it, Robbie. She didn't talk to Swift, though I don't know which one of my and Malcolm's former acquaintances did. Go ahead, read it." Robbie opened the book to the page that Ellen had marked for Laura, an excerpt chronicling her marriage.

_Malcolm Tucker found in Laura Hobson a partner as brilliant and ambitious as himself. They shared a volatile romance, and their coupling was worthy of the best bodice-ripping novels. But with such passionate chemistry came fiery rows as well. They were young and idealistic at the start of their respective careers, before all the politics and corpses jaded them both. Got a skeleton in your closet? Malcolm's your man; burying the corpses is what he does best. Her job? Forensic pathologist- giving a voice to literal corpses, providing evidence as to what had happened so that someone would advocate for justice on their behalf. Malcolm and Laura were two sides of a coin; they learned a lot from one another, but in the end they couldn't harmonize their lives together. She didn't want to be a political wife, nor did she have the temperament._

Robbie had read enough and closed the book. Laura scanned his face for a reaction, fearing jealousy but finding none. She spoke. "It's eerie to read about yourself in the third person. How dare she write about me like she knows who I am. It makes me sick, Robbie."

"I can see why." He put his arms around Laura, silently thankful that no one would ever write about the pair of them that way. (A/N: *wink*) "Bodice-ripping? Crikey. I'm just glad that we have the, erm, passionate chemistry without the fiery rows, love." She was so grateful that he could find some levity in the situation, albeit short-lived. "But there's something else you should know, Laura. Swift followed me here from the house. If you can clear your schedule, I think that you should tell work that there's a family emergency and we need to go up to Lyn's for a few days."

Laura agreed. "Give me a few hours to finish my open cases, then we'll go."

Robbie trusted that she would be safe inside the police complex that also housed the forensic mortuary, so he went home to pack a few things, and then returned to the mortuary.

At the end of the work day, Robbie escorted Laura from the station to her car. Marianne Swift was there waiting. "Dr Hobson! Do you have anything to say about Malcolm Tucker's release?"

"I have no comment."

"Your boyfriend said that everyone deserves a second chance. Do you agree?"

Robbie stepped in and shielded Laura from Marianne Swift. "She has no comment. If you continue to harass Dr Hobson, she will file a restraining order. Do I make myself clear?" He bellowed.

He zapped his car to unlock the passenger door and hustled Laura inside. He entered on his side then quickly drove off.

"Thank you." Laura whispered. She watched carefully in the rear-view mirror and saw no one behind them. She let out a deep sigh of relief. "I'm glad you believe in second chances, Robbie." She meant it for both of them, and for Malcolm Tucker as well. Robbie took his hand off the gear shift for a moment to squeeze her knee, and then moved it back to accelerate onto the motorway. "How soon 'til we're at Lyn's?"

"How fast will you let me drive, pet?"

Laura slept late the next morning, feeling safe in the cocoon of Lyn's small and busy home. She came downstairs to find Robbie done with his breakfast, helping his grandson study the various capitals of the Commonwealth. Lyn offered to scramble Laura some eggs as Robbie and the lad ploughed through Canada.

"New Brunswick?"

"Fredericton!"

"British Columbia?"

"Victoria!"

"Bright lad! I thought it was Vancouver, meself." Robbie paused long enough to give Laura the paper, folded to a section in the middle. "Not to worry, Tucker's release didn't even make the front page, and there's no mention of you whatsoever." He would shield her from people who didn't have her best interest at heart, but knew her well enough never to shield her from knowledge. Robbie knew that Laura would always want to know the details.

Laura perused the article, and then put the paper down. "Thank you for taking me away from all this, Robbie. Thanks, Lyn, for the safe haven, as it were."

"That's what family is for," answered Lyn, as she sprinkled some salt and pepper into the still-runny eggs.

Robbie responded as well. "I'd take you all the way to…" He paused to look at a flash card. "What's the capital of the Yukon Territories, lad?"

"Whitehorse!"

"That's right!" He turned back to Laura. "I'd take you all the way to Whitehorse if I had to in order to keep you safe and away from prying eyes."

Laura smiled. "I'd settle for the White Horse pub."

Little Laura Hobson was about the same age as Robbie's grandson when she dreamt of her Prince Charming carrying her off on a white horse to his far away kingdom. And after all this time, that is exactly what happened.

* * *

Author note: Apologies to anyone who really wanted to see Malcolm turn up at the police station and do a double take when he met Jean Innocent. I'm rather fond of Malcolm despite his foul mouth, so I do not mean to portray him as the bad guy. He is, however, an intriguing foil to Robbie Lewis- the love of Laura's life. I'd love to hear a Malcolm/Robbie verbal ping-pong game full of idiomatic northern expressions, but I just don't have the skill set to write that! I never seek to dictate "head cannon" for character back stories or anything else, but I think that that this triangle is a great one for anyone else who wants to pursue it in their own way…


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